


The Princess That Was

by FanficsbyVe



Series: The Children of Gwyn [2]
Category: Dark Souls, Dark Souls III
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7267543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficsbyVe/pseuds/FanficsbyVe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look at Gwynevere, Princess of Sunlight, and the woman behind the illusion few ever knew. FINISHED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shadow Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been kind of fascinated by Gwynevere. All we ever see of her is an illusion made by Gwyndolin, but we know nothing about her as a person, aside from her being a Goddess of Fertility, marrying Flann and giving birth to several children. So what was she like? Was she really just the kind, all-loving classic princess the illusion had us believe or was she a woman well at home in the chaotic world of Anor Londo? This is me just having fun with some of the possibilities.
> 
> P.S. I think I should also mention here that I personally don't subscribe to the theory that Gwynevere is the Queen of Lothric. While the English text of the game suggests this, the original Japanese text outright debunks it by stating the Queen was COMPARED (例えられた) to a Goddess of Fertility, meaning it's likely not Gwynevere herself. As a translator, who knows herself how much can get lost in translation, I always think it's important to keep both sources in mind while gleaning information. So that's my take on that matter.

_“Ah, Lady Gwynevere. Do what do I owe this pleasure?”_

_Gwynevere ignored the mocking tone Kremmel employed as he stood in the doorway of his chambers. The look on his face reflected his opinion of her as well. She did her best to ignore it._

_“I have a message to bring thee, Lord Kremmel. Would thou be so kind as to let me inside, so we can talk?”_

_She had come here tonight with a mission. Her father had recently staked a claim to the title of King of the Gods, declaring to overthrow the dragons and establish paradise. He definitely had the strength and ambition to pursue such a goal, but the other Gods were divided in their support of it. Several had doubts in their mind and Kremmel, the God of Struggle, were the most vocal of them all._

_Her father had tried to sway him many times, promising riches and glory. The God of Struggle had simply laughed, calling them empty promises of a crownless king. Several Gods had taken his side in the debate about loyalty and as such, the schism between the factions remained, slowly taking on the makings of a civil war. That was a stalemate she was currently aiming to resolve._

_Gwyn never involved his daughter in his machinations. To him, she was a beautiful thing to have, the fruit of a short but passionate affair with her mother Nehma. She was his beautiful daughter to his strong son Gwynnant and while he cherished and spoiled her, he seemed to see no need in involving any female children if they didn’t have a sword or destructive magic in their hand._

_Her mother, the Goddess of Love, had strongly disagreed with that mentality. She strongly believed women did not have to shun their femininity to be powerful forces. As a deity who embodied Love, she knew how powerful and destructive the emotion could be and how to play a game where everyone underestimated her. She had similarly instructed her daughter, urging her to love and care for others foremost, but always be aware that survival required sacrifices. Gwynevere had taken those words to heart and now, a young adult, she would put those intro practice._

_She waltzed over to one of the chairs and graciously accepted it when he pulled it back for her. She could sense mock curtesy in every inch of his being, but she didn’t so much as flinch. She waited for him to take the other chair and politely took the glass of wine she offered. She pretended to take a sip, but didn’t let the whine pass her lips. She wanted a clear head and she only trusted Kremmel as far as she could throw him._

_The God of Struggle looked her over, smirking. “Did thine father sent thee?”_

_She shook her head. “No, though he speaks of thee quite often. He is quite saddened that thou hast so little fate in him.”_

_Almost immediately, the male God burst into laughter. “Thou suggests that I have any fate in him at all. No, thine father is a braggart and a pretender. I could do what he does and, unlike him, I would prevail.”_

_Gwynevere practically bit her tongue not to simply ask why he didn’t. Of course, she already knew the answer. After all, it was much easier to say something than actually do it. So she held her peace and let him continue._

_“Thou sayest thine father did not send thee. Then what brings thee to my door? Art thou intending to convince me behind his back? I might be…open to that. Your sunlight would be far more persuasive than the knife of the Lord’s Strumpet Ciaran, most definitely.”_

_That very moment, Gwynevere could feel her blood boil. How dare he? How dare he assume she would use her body to achieve anything? Moreover, how dare he insult a Lord’s Blade, and her dear friend, to her face? The thought of Ciaran opening his throat seemed incredibly alluring, but she managed to keep a straight face. She let out a small laugh, speaking sweetly as if she didn’t even know what she was talking about._

_“No, I merely wished to bring thee news of thine daughter Caffrey. As thou recallest, thine lady wife Caitha recently gave her to me as a handmaiden.”_

_With those words, she handed him a letter, one the little girl had written a day or so ago. She had promised the girl she would deliver them as soon as possible and she didn’t dare not keeping her word. If only the little girl knew how useful her words would be._

_She watched how he took the letter from her and started to read. No doubt he recognized his daughter’s handwriting. She could see him smile ever so slightly. As such, she took a deep breath and continued._

_“Thine daughter is a wonderful child. Kind, gentle, clever. She will be a splendid lady of the court someday. She asked me to bring thee this letter and I could not refuse. Especially since we are leaving soon.”_

_Within seconds, Gwynevere could feel the entire atmosphere of the room change. Kremmel froze, letter still in hand, his eyes looking up to meet hers. She gave him a hesitant smile, her words like honey._

_“As you know, my father will soon march upon the dragons. He has suggested that I join him. Of course, a future princess cannot travel with an entourage.”_

_For a moment, she could see Kremmel’s eyes widen. She fought the urge to laugh. He was slowly catching on to what she meant and now, it was too late to present a counter move. Her voice taking on a concerned tone, she decided to lay it on thick._

_“Mine father insisted thou should not be informed. I disagreed on that. It does concern thine daughter, after all.”_

_By now, the God of Struggle looked like he had seen a ghost. His face had gone pale and she could see his hands tremble ever so slightly. His fingers crumpled the letter slowly but steadily. He had been outplayed, but even know, he didn’t even know it was not Gwyn playing him. After all, what self-respecting God would suspect a mere Goddess of Fertility, barely of age?_

_She gave him one of her sweetest, most compassionate smiles before getting up. Without losing an ounce of grace, she bowed to him. She then turned around, ready to leave the God’s home once more._

_“I am afraid I must go now. My absence at the palace will certainly be noticed if maintained for too long. My apologies for disturbing you, Lord Kremmel.”_

_Having said her piece, Gwynevere started to walk away. She quietly counted the steps, never once looking over her shoulder. Then, the God of Struggle called out._

_“Wait!”  
She then turned back, giving him an innocent and confused look. Kremmel stood there nailed to the ground. His hands were balled into fists, a vein in his forehead throbbing. He practically had to force his words through his teeth, but he said them nonetheless._

_“Tell thy father he has my support. I will join him with my army on the morrow. I will send out the word to mine allies as well.”_

_Immediately, Gwynevere let out a well-rehearsed gasp of surprise. “Such splendid news! My father will be most pleased to hear it! I am so glad thou hast changed thy mind.”_

_Again, she bowed, exaggeratedly so. “I wish thee a most wonderful night, Lord Kremmel. Also give my kind regards to Lady Caitha. I look forward to her joining us at court."_

_Not allowing him to give her any other response, she then quickly went outside. She approached the litter waiting for her and got in. She ordered the servants to move and as they moved back to her father’s home, sheltered from the world by the curtains, she allowed herself a smirk._

_This expression was matched by the other occupant of the litter. Gwynevere didn’t have a doubt in her mind that Ciaran had actually sneaked outside and listened in on the entire conversation. She didn’t mind. The leader of the Lord’s Blades was one of her closest friends and they had learned a lot from each other when it came to covert politics._

_“You play a deliciously devious game, My Lady.”_

_The Princess of Sunlight sat back smiling. “Sometimes silk works far better than steel, Ciaran. You know that as well as me. We now have less blood among our own and a far more powerful army. I would say we have accomplished a fine goal today.”_

_The Lord’s Blade nodded in agreement. “We did indeed. Unfortunately, your father will never laud you for that.”_

_Gwynevere heard the genuine disappointment in her voice and smiled. “Do not mourn such a thing too much. My father overestimates his own influence sometimes and his enemies see me as nothing but a sheltered daughter. When they attribute my plans to him, I will remain unsuspected and a game is much easier to win when others underestimate you.”_

_Ciaran stared at her for a long moment, before bursting into laughter. “Spoken like a true Lord’s Blade, My Lady.”_

_The Princess smiled, helping herself to some delicacies and sharing them with her friend. “Let us hurry home. I look forward to seeing my father receive the news that his army has expanded.”_

Even now, Gwynevere remembered that particular night with exceptional fondness. It was the first time she had decided to participate in her father’s politics and it had shown her just how good she was at it. It had given her courage and confidence, cemented the person whom she would eventually become.

A Princess of Sunlight they called her, yet at times she felt she was more of a Shadow Queen. Gwyn had a hard time dealing with anything he couldn’t win with strength or charisma and often couldn’t deal with the day to day minutia of ruling a kingdom. Those had become her share and between her war-hungry older brother Gwynnant and later her scheming younger sibling Gwyndolin, she maintained the peace among Gwyn’s many bickering allies.

She had fulfilled that role with a lot of pride and never once demanded credit. It was better that way. For people to not know where the family’s true power lay and who wielded it. A true ruler never showed the hand they were playing and she knew that better than all of her relatives.

Tonight, however, her guiding hands would no longer lead Anor Londo. She could no longer do so in good conscious. Things had changed, more than anyone could possibly comprehend.

The palace of Anor Londo felt cold and unwelcome. The sun had faded from the sky days ago now and the world was as chilling as winter’s cold’s breath. It was only the first sign of things to come.

The city was dying. She could feel it in her very bones. With the fading of the First Flame, the Age of Dark was coming and, as her traitorous brother once claimed, not even the might of the Gods could prevent it forever.

She saw this truth. She had suspected it from the moment her older brother betrayed their family to join the dragons. She had not spoken up back then, but she now would. Not with words; she knew words only meant so much. No, she would speak with actions.

She had made a decision, perhaps the greatest one in her life. She had always been a loyal, loving daughter. She had always contended herself working in the shadows to consolidate her family’s power. Yet no longer. Tonight, it would be the end of an era for Gwyn’s family.

Tonight, she would take the first step to betray her father.


	2. The Flame God's Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwynevere and Flann work together in the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it might be important to mention here that I think Gwynevere might not be the size that her illusion suggests. Supposedly, semi-canon sources claimed that the size of the illusion was deliberately there for the player to be tipped off something wasn't right.  
> Additionally, all the statues in Anor Londo seem to be made to scale when we meet their characters. Assuming it works the same for Gwynevere, this suggests that she was indeed much taller than humans (which is standard for the Gods), but fairly average-sized for one of her kind. So that's the canon height I keep for the real Gwynevere.

_“Flann, are you there?”_

_Gwynevere could hear her voice echo through the cave as she stood at its entrance. Initially, there was no response and she wondered if Flann had perhaps gone out to hunt. He preferred very much to take care of his own basic needs, after all, and rarely showed up to convene with the other Gods unless he absolutely had to._

_Perhaps, she figured, that was why she liked him so much. Despite the fact the foundations were barely laid, Anor Londo was already a cacophony of hidden agendas and fortune seekers trying to curry favor with her father. The barracks of his army were hardly any different and Flann’s presence made being there a lot more bearable. As a scholarly God who had no interest in playing political games, he made for pleasant company._

_In fact, she quietly admitted to herself she might enjoy it for more than platonic reasons. Gwynevere had no shortage of male admirers, both for her beauty and her station, and she had briefly entertained one or two lovers growing up, mostly among her father’s knights. Yet as she had grown into adulthood, she felt an insatiably strong attraction to the gentle Fire God and his nurturing warmth. If only he wasn’t so withdrawn and she’d be able to feel it against her._

_This time, however, she was here on business. This very afternoon, there had been a violent argument between her father and older brother. He came into the barracks, spinning a strange tale about seeing the end of the world in the First Flame. His account was bizarre to say the least and Gwyn had been quick to dismiss it and call his behavior dissent. Gwynevere had not entirely been convinced of that. She wished to corroborate his story first before making any decisions._

_She was just about to give up and come back later when she finally heard a voice inside. “L-Lady Gwynevere!”_

_A few seconds later, Flann came stumbling out. He gave her an apologetic smile, bowing to her. She graciously returned the gesture._

_“I-I had not expected thee here. I had not received word that thou wert coming.”_

_She shook her head. “I intentionally didn’t announce my arrival, Flann. Please abandon your formalities, as we know each other well enough. I am dealing with a matter of utmost importance. For that, I need your help.”_

_The man smiled, awkwardly so. “Certainly. My knowledge is at your disposal.”_

_Gwynevere quietly stifled a laugh. Flann was definitely an odd one out when it came to the Gods. He was taller than average, practically matching Knight Artorias in height, and quite handsome with his red hair, amber eyes and lithe muscular build. His was an unkempt, wild beauty compared to most men, one he easily could have bragged about, but he was a rather modest person and polite but shy when it came to women. It was likely why he was still unwed and frankly, she felt the woman who’d have him should consider herself lucky. It was a shame Gwyn would never view a man like him as proper marriage material._

_She continued. “Gwynnant claimed he came to you very recently. He said you…looked into the Flame and saw disaster. Is this true?”_

_Instantly, she could see him grow pale. Instantly, his eyes started to shift around, almost as if worried they were being followed. He then motioned her inside his home, leaning in close as he spoke in a hushed tone._

_“He looked into the Flame himself, Gwynevere, but unfortunately, I do not think that what he saw was misinterpreted. The Flame often provides disturbing visions, even to me.”_

_The Princess of Sunlight frowned. “I assume you have not mentioned this to my father for obvious reasons.”_

_The Flame God nodded, seeming ashamed. “I do not think he would believe me. If he did, he would likely take my head for treason.”_

_Gwynevere could barely contain a sigh, bitterly aware that her friend was likely right. “You have acted wisely. So, what is the nature of those visions? Are they predictions? Prophecies? Do they show something that is or might be?”_

_Flann gave her a tired look. “Were it that I knew, Princess. I have studied the First Flame for a long time now and even I cannot ascertain its nature. It seems to be alive, in some manner, like the beating heart inside our chests. Yet a heart to what kind of body, that is the question? The world? The cosmos? Its own existence? Who knows?”_

_She let his explanation play through her head several times. Whatever Gwynnant had seen was likely not the result of going through multiple wine casks. Perhaps, he was really onto something. Something vital to their family’s future…_

_“So my brother’s words may have merit. Not that he will manage to convey this to my father…”_

_Flann gave her an almost shocked look and she shook her head. “Do not get me wrong, Flann. Gwynnant is a good man, brave and honorable. I love him as I do life itself. But he is as hot-blooded, combative and headstrong as my father, with no mind for subtle politics. Their disagreement will become a personal war and no one will benefit. Well, no one except Seath perhaps.”_

_Immediately, the Flame God scoffed in agreement. “Seath is the only one who would benefit from the war, no matter which side wins.”_

_Gwynevere looked at him, feeling a flash of relief. “You distrust him as well, do you not? My flesh crawls as soon as I look upon him.”_

_The God’s amber eyes burned. “I think Gwyn made a mistake allowing him into his court. “I do not trust anyone who betrayed their own, let alone take him into my service. For their past has already shown how they think of loyalty.”_

_The Goddess looked up at him as he spoke, listening contently. It was nice to be with someone to whom she could speak plainly. While she was good at moving through the social circles of Anor Londo, the double meanings and hidden agendas sometimes tired her and hindered any true decision-making that needed to be done. How different would the City of Gods be if all of its Lords and Ladies were as pragmatic as Flann…_

_“Those are wise words…”_

_Instantly, she could see how his face started to match his hair. “Thank you, I appreciate the compliment. So, would you wish me to continue my research on the Flame and provide you with what I learn from it?”_

_She nodded happily. “Yes, I would appreciate it. It is still too soon to determine if my brother’s visions are truthful. If they are, we must act fast and I think I have a better chance at steering Gwyn in the right direction than Gwynnant does. I could use an ally such as yourself.”_

_He practically beamed as she said that. “No honor would be greater. So, would that be all or do you wish to stay for supper? The food I have is fresh, scavenged this morning…”_

_His sentence slowly started to trail off, as if he was growing hesitant of his own offer. Gwynevere dreaded the idea that he might take it back. As such, she quickly interrupted._

_“Supper would be delightful, Flann.”_

_She meant every word of it. After all she had learned, she couldn’t bear to have to return to the camp. She wouldn’t be able to stand all the curtsying and insincere flattering going on there in the face of a potential armageddon. A quiet, simple supper with Flann sounded just like what she needed._

_So she stayed, sitting with the man she so admired and sharing his food. She stayed long after, excitingly discussing the nature of the Flame and its effect on the Gods. When she did finally leave, she decided to be bold and stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, making her feelings quite clear. She could only let out a sad sigh when Flann flashed a bright red and retreated into his home with a utterly awkward greeting._

Now, that night only made her laugh. It was amusing to think that her lover was once so shy with her. It was a far cry from where they were now, their bodies and minds as familiar to each other as the songs of their childhood. 

She let out a small sigh. How she longed for just that tonight. She was about to commit an act of ultimate treason, one that would break her bond with her father for all eternity. She needed the reassurance that she was doing the right thing. No one could make her feel that way like Flann did.

It seemed her lover had already anticipated her coming. The lamps in his home were on and he was waiting for her by the window. When he spied her at the entrance, he quickly let her inside, but his happiness quickly faded upon seeing the determined look on her face.

“Is something on your mind, my love?”

She nodded, closing the door behind her and turning to him. “We must leave Anor Londo.”

Flann didn’t even look surprised at that statement. He looked outside, to the sunless sky. She noted that unlike her, he didn’t seem particularly cold. How could he be? He was a God of fire and heat. He pulled her close and she happily took in his warmth.

“It is time, is it not? Gwynnant was right after all…”

She nodded against his chest and he continued. “Wherever shall we go?”

“Anywhere. Across the sea. Wherever the Flame holds no sway. Whatever we do, my father will not be swayed and I refuse to let his stubbornness kill us all.”

One look at Flann and she could see he agreed. It wouldn’t actually surprise her if he thought she had taken far too long in making her decision. He looked around, as if he feared the walls had ears, and then turned to her.

“Very well. Give me a few days. The other Gods have grown dissatisfied with Gwyn as well and many know by now who truly kept the alliances here in Anor Londo. They might be willing to follow you if simply asked.” 

“Please do. But try to be discreet, my love. Gwyn grows more paranoid every day and I cannot bear to lose you.”

He smiled. “I will be careful. I do not plan to leave you any time soon.”

Her heart felt light as he said that. There was a reason she had chosen him over any of the other suitors vying for her affections. Flann had a gentle heart, but an unbendable will and protective nature. If she was to leave the only home she had known, she was glad to have him by her side. 

She leaned up to kiss him and unlike so many years before, he excitedly answered. She shuddered in excitement as his warm hands slipped underneath her clothing, soothing the goosebumps that the sunless days had caused her. It wasn’t long before her hands found his and she brought them up to her breasts.

Flann immediately took the hint and started undressing her. She did the same to him, practically tearing off his garments and tossing them aside. She pressed her lips to his chest and abdomen as she did, glad to see he enjoyed her attention.

Part of her realized just how inappropriate it was. To have intercourse with her lover right after discussing betrayal. Yet as of now, she couldn’t care less. She wanted this and needed this. In this dying world, there was no need for propriety anymore.

Soon, the both of them were on the floor, kissing, clawing and groping. His mouth was on her breasts and his hand found that sensitive little nub between her legs. She ground herself against his busy digits, moaning softly. It wasn’t long before she was becoming slick. She tried to work those fingers inside of her, but her lover had other plans. 

He moved himself into a sitting position, putting her on his lap, and kissed her deeply before pushing himself inside her. This drew another low moan from her and she instantly started to move her hips to ride him. Her lower muscles contracted all around his manhood as she took him in as deep as she could, quickly losing herself in pleasure.

Flann was glad to have her take the lead for a while. He seemed to entertain himself with her breasts and nipples, gently sucking at them and teasing them with his tongue. The fingers of her left hand dug into his hair to keep him close as she worked him in and out of her wet, willing womanhood, while her right hand reached behind her to fondle his sac.

That was what finally shattered his patience. Next thing she knew, she felt cold tiles pressing against her back and he was on top of her. She mewled as he started pounding into her, wrapping her legs around his waist to have him close. He buried his face in her hair, biting down on her shoulder before whispering to her how beautiful she was.

She simply kissed him in response, pressing her tongue into his mouth while raking her nails across his back. She couldn’t care less that they were currently a noisy, tangled mess, violently making love on the floor where anyone walking in could see them. There was a certain thrill in it, a confirmation of the fact she would no longer play the game her father created so long ago and she needed this calm before the storm that would inevitably blow over the city of Lords.

Soon, her movements grew more frantic. Her hips rose to meet Flann’s as he pumped in and out of her, begging him not to stop. The delicious friction was quickly becoming too much for her and her back arched as his pelvis rubbed against her sensitive nub, finally sending her over the edge. 

Her lover followed soon after, not pulling out for the first time since they had become intimate. It suited her just fine. She was done hiding. If she was going to carry any God’s child, she’d rather have it be his than anyone else’s.

Gwynevere didn’t at all complain when he collapsed on top of her, nuzzling her affectionately. She wrapped her arms around him, telling her how much she loved him and he quietly confirmed it was mutual. He then asked her to stay and she could only gladly oblige. On her last nights in Anor Londo, she’d rather spend them here than in a doomed palace.


	3. The Wayward Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwynevere defies her father.

_“I have to do something…anything…”_

_Gwynevere had not gone to sup with her family tonight. She had locked herself in her chambers and dismissed her maidens. She couldn’t stand their chirping and at times like these, she desperately wished someone like Ciaran was still here. Yet her close friend had left Anor Londo long ago, gone as the Four Knights fell apart, and without any close friends left, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Especially after the events of the previous day._

_Bishop Havel, one of her father’s most loyal generals, had conducted a silent raid on the Duke’s Archives. He had long distrusted Seath and disagreed immensely with Gwyn’s decision to reward the scaleless dragon and grand him a dukedom after the war was over. After hearing many unsettling rumors and her father being unwilling to investigate, he had decided to look into the matter himself and led an expedition. He had shared his motives with Gwynevere and, having long distrusted the dragon herself, she went behind her father’s back to provide him with the royal seal._

_Her actions in aiding him had paid off. He had discovered many disturbing things in Seath’s stronghold. Sadistic experiments performed on young women, beings of living crystal and unsettling creatures that were born from moonlight magic, the kind her younger sibling seemed to be born from. Yet all these atrocities didn’t compare to the one thing they found deep within the stronghold. A violation of nature that she still couldn’t find any words for._

_Gwynevere had turned white the moment Havel brought the girl to her. It was as if she was staring into her own face. This little girl, Priscilla as Havel called her, could have been her daughter based on the resemblance alone, were it not for the white fur, the fluffy tail, the white scales and the obvious green dragon eyes._

_The very sight of her gave way to a horrific theory, one that only sickened her even more when Havel confirmed it. This child, this abomination that was both God and Dragon, was made from her blood, acquired through underhanded means by two now missing handmaidens under her command. Seath had combined it with his own and as a result of his vile experiments, birthed this unnatural crossbreed._

_The Princess of Sunlight had felt utterly ill as all of this became clear. Part of her had always hoped she and Flann were wrong about Seath, but that hope was shattered beyond repair. The treacherous Dragon truly was a wretched being, torturing and violating those around him for his twisted pursuits. The Gods themselves were not safe either, seeing just how easily he had obtained her blood without her consent. That thought nearly had her retch. Even if her body had remained untouched, the only thing she could compare it with was rape._

_Yet, as disgusted as she was and as violated as she felt, she could not find it in her to hate Priscilla. How could she, when the little girl didn’t ask to be brought into the world like this? No, while she despised Seath beyond words, she felt nothing but pity and affection for the frightened little girl._

_What had to be done about her was simple enough in her mind. This child was her blood and because of it, royalty. She had spent her entire life in the bowels of those wretched Archives and didn’t deserve to suffer for her “father’s” crimes. As a woman who had always adored children, she saw no reason why Priscilla shouldn’t be adopted into the royal family and legally become her daughter, so she might have a happy and fulfilling life._

_Gwyn, however, wanted nothing to do with that plan. The moment he laid eyes on the little crossbreed, he erupted into an ire she had never before seen. He lambasted Havel for his unauthorized raid and threatened him to never speak of what he found on pain of death. He demanded the girl imprisoned, lest she’d grow up to be a danger to all the Gods. Tomorrow morning, she would be locked away in the deepest dungeons to keep her existence hidden and Seath would be given a severe warning to never cook up such a monstrosity again or be faced with the withdrawal of his privileges._

_For once in her life, Gwynevere had openly protested her father’s decision. She didn’t mince words in saying her father’s degrees were cruel, self-serving and allowed the perpetrator to go free. Seath was a danger to their subjects, perhaps even to them. Priscilla was as much a victim as the people he experimented on and she didn’t deserve to take the fall just so Gwyn could save face. His subjects deserved the truth and he should prove himself a just ruler by putting their tormentor on trial while showing mercy to the innocent. If he would not do such a thing, he was hardly a king at all._

_Her unambiguous, open opposition of his plans had not gone over well with Gwyn. After several moments of stunned silence, he flew into another rage. He sharply told her he had not asked for the opinion of a Goddess of Fertility on political matters and that she should know better than speak out against her own father in public. Besides, he stated, the fact that Seath had even managed to obtain her blood clearly meant she could not be trusted with her own safety. He had not considered it earlier out of love for her, but now, he saw no other choice. It was time for him to marry her off._

_She had had been shocked and furious when she heard it and those sentiments only increased when she heard whom her husband to be was. Her father had decided that Faraam, the God of War, would be a suitable spouse, capable of protecting her. Hearing him rave about the man’s virtues almost made her want to laugh. Even now, Gwyn was blind to the fact Faraam had been her older brother’s lover and that while Gwynnant had found men and women equally desirable, Faraam found the supposed fairer sex not fair at all. Not that Gwyn realized this, as he mentioned the God of War had politely objected to his offer and he had ignored it, attributing them to modesty._

_Any attempts to bring the man’s orientation her father’s attention, however, were quickly silenced and he considered the matter concluded. The child would be locked away and she would be wed to a man of his choosing, an order by the Lord of Gods. He then expected her to bow and concede, like she always did. Instead, she had silently shown her defiance by giving him a contemptuous glare, before turning her back on him and walking away to stay in her chambers._

_It was there she intended to stay, if only to upset her father and show her displeasure. At least, that’s how he would perceive it. She was also here to cry, let out her frustration and hatch a plan to foil her father’s orders. She was already well at work on that and when she heard a knock on her door and a familiar face poked his head in, she knew it might have a chance of success._

_“How are you, sister?”_

_Gwynevere looked up, faced with her sibling as he slinked into the room and closed the door behind him. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, swallowing to get the lump out of her throat. Gwyndolyn joined her on the bed, letting out a soft sigh._

_“I have received word of what happened. Both events. To say it is a dark day for you would be an understatement.”_

_Few people were good at distinguishing when her sibling was truly mocking someone, but Gwynevere realized he was utterly genuine. He reached over and provided a handkerchief. He waited for her to wipe her face with it, before putting a hand on her shoulder._

_“I understand you are sad, but tears will not help your cause, dear sister. It is naïve to think otherwise.”_

_Knowing he meant well, she smiled a little. “And it is naïve to assume tears are always a sign of weakness, dearest Gwyndolyn. Especially when we both know it can be a weapon as well.”_

_That remark had her younger sibling laugh and he embraced her. Even though Gwyndolyn was often busy with his own schemes, the two of them had a good, close bond. Gwynevere had never liked how her father favored her over him and had undone many of his more harsher actions towards her baby brother behind the scenes._

_As such, the two of them had developed a knack for operating outside the established order, her brother from the shadows and she in plain sight. They had also orchestrated several of their machinations together should the situation call for it. Now, it seemed he was thinking along such lines yet again._

_“Perhaps, but it is more productive to do something about one’s problems. Though my suggestions might be too out of the box for your taste…”_

_The Princess of Sunlight smiled, having an inkling of what he was on to. “Do those suggestions involve the aid of a purported witch and rogue deity?”_

_Her younger sibling let out a faux gasp, a smirk on his face. “Oh sister, how dare you talk of my mother in such a way? I am most grieved.”_

_The both of them laughed, before his face turned serious. “You are right, however. My mother has already sent her crows and heard of your plight. She has little love for our father and would be willing to grand little Priscilla asylum, in a place where he will never reach her.”_

_A short silence ensued between them, before Gwynevere nodded, understanding what he was talking about. “The Painted World of Ariamis.”_

_Her sibling let out a sigh. “I am aware it is not ideal. But the beings in there will be kind to her and she will be safer there than she is anywhere else in the known world. At least, she will be able to move freely and have companionship. It is better than a life in chains in the dungeons.”_

_She sat back, letting out a deep sigh of her own. Gwyndolyn was right, of course. Velka had specifically commissioned Ariamis to create a world that would be a refuge to outcasts, just another one of her gambits to defy Gwyn. If there was one place Priscilla would be safe at, it was there. She understood that doing the right thing wasn’t always easy. Still, what she wouldn’t have given to keep the sweet little girl for herself, a daughter for her to raise and love…_

_“Let us say I agree to your suggestion. How are we to get her inside the Painted World? It is a painting, a world made inaccessible to most.”_

_Gwyndolyn quickly checked to see if they were truly alone. Then, from the folds of his dress, he produced an odd-looking doll and handed it to her. She took it from him and examined it quietly. The object was rather strange and she couldn’t help but feel a dark, mysterious energy emanate from it. Velka’s magic, she was certain of it._

_“What is this?”_

_Gwynevere could feel how her younger sibling leaned closer, his voice lowered to a whisper. “The key to the Painted World. Give this to the girl and it will take her there.”_

_Once again, the Princess of Sunlight debated with herself whether she could go through with this. Her minds sifted through all the possibilities, yet came up with none. If she wanted to keep Priscilla safe and out of the dungeons, she would need to make the ultimate sacrifice._

_Gwyndolyn looked at her, noticing her hesitation. “Do you think you can get it to her?”_

_She shook the doubt from her mind, nodding at her brother. “Easily enough. You have done a lot for me, baby brother, yet there is one last thing I wish to ask of you.”_

_She got up from her bed and walked to a nearby table. Taking a quill, paper and some ink, she quickly jotted down two letters. She then sealed them and walked back over to her sibling, handing them to him._

_“Can you ensure these will be brought to Faraam and Flann? This is of utmost importance.”_

_A smirk came onto Gwyndolyn’s lips. “Most certainly, dear sister. I will have my Blades deliver them. Good luck, Gwynevere. I am quite curious how these events are going to play out indeed… Now excuse me, I am going to lull our father into a false sense of security, so you can go about your business.”_

_With those words, he got up and left her chambers once more. Knowing her baby brother would have her back, she decided to act. She washed her face and straightened her clothes, looking presentable once more. She took some of her food and hid it in a cloth with the doll, before making her ways to the cells._

_The guards let her in easily enough, especially when she spun a sympathetic tale of wishing to say goodbye to the girl. When they closed the door behind her, she rapidly moved towards the cell where Priscilla was held. She sat down beside the bars, calling for her._

_She would never forget the look on the little girl’s face. She looked so small and broken, her face stained with tears and shivering madly. When she saw her, those odd, but beautiful green eyes lit up with a spark of hope. She practically crawled towards the bars, her voice barely above a whisper._

_“Lady Gwynevere? Have you come to get me out? It is so dark here… I am scared.”_

_The Princess of Sunlight felt her body grow cold at the little girl’s words. She had disagreed with her father’s decisions before, but she had never been so thoroughly disgusted as she was now. A flash of anger shot through her veins. Any doubt about her plan was gone._

_“Yes, I will.”_

_She quickly slipped the doll from the cloth and handed it to the girl through the bars. She latched onto it, gripping it as if her life depended on it. If only she knew how much truth was in that…_

_“This doll will bring you to a better place. The inhabitants might look scary, but they will be kind to you. They will treat you like the princess you are.”_

_The little girl looked at her confused, but nodded nonetheless. Gwynevere could feel tears sting behind her eyes. It was so unfair. She shouldn't have to make any other choice than adopting this girl, yet here she was, sending her off to a painting for her own safety. Knowing she didn’t have much time left with the precious little girl, she leaned in, bringing her face close and kissing her forehead._

_“I am sorry, little Priscilla. I am so sorry I could not save you. Please, do not think too harshly of me…”_

_Then, just like that, the girl started to fade. A strange, otherworldly power started to draw the girl from the cell, into the Painted World. The Princess of Sunlight watched how she underwent this crossing of worlds with bravery and dignity, trying to ease her sadness with the knowledge that at least this innocent child would be safe._

_Soon, only the doll was left in the cell. Taking a deep breath, Gwynevere picked it up and held it close herself. She could still feel where the little girl’s arms had wrapped around it and she could only hope that the child would be alright._

_Suddenly, the cawing of a crow had her look up from her thoughts. Knowing it was not a mere stray bird, she approached it and indeed, it didn’t move. She lay the doll beside it, giving the animal a nod._

_“Take this and thank your mistress for all her assistance. I will repay her. Now, however, I am going to solve another conundrum of mine.”_

_She watched as the crow flew off with the doll in its talons. Then, she put the food in the cell as to protect her cover and strode out. The guards let her pass without asking so much as a question and she swiftly headed back to her quarters. There, she waited, well until after the sun was set, to start her second plan._

_Frankly, she decided it couldn’t commence soon enough. The events with Priscilla had taken a toll on her sanity and having to weather them alone was not a good prospect. She wanted someone with her, someone to distract her from the horrible decision she had to make. She couldn’t think of a better person than her lover Flann._

_Indeed, he showed up in her chambers at the precisely the time she asked him to. How he had managed to sneak past the knights and sentinels this time, she had no idea and at this point, she no longer even asked. Besides, he would need to use that method a lot in the future._

_Her lover seemed to realize her dour mood. He walked over and held her. She happily accepted his affection. When he asked her if she was alright, she simply kissed him and took his hand, leading him to her bed._

_Clearly, he had no objections to her intentions. Before they had even reached the bed, he started to undress her and kissed her roughly. His hands were everywhere, but she pulled back instead, helping him out of his own clothes. She then knelt down, wrapping her lips around his manhood and teasing him with her tongue._

_She could feel him grow hard in her mouth and she worked to bring him to completion, using her hands as well. Flann, however, would have none of it. He eased her away, picked her up and placed her on the bed. Within seconds, his head was between her legs and his tongue ran across her womanhood._

_As soon as his lips touched her sensitive folds, she started to squirm. Flann held firm, focusing on her clit while pushing his fingers deep inside her. He found that rough patch inside her that had her scream and soon, she couldn’t do anything else but press her hips into his face, desperate to reach her peak. She was panting heavily, her nipples taut and her skin sweaty, her entrance slick as she got ever closer to that familiar peak._

_Her lover, however, had other plans. Flipping her onto her stomach and pulling her to her hand and feet, he entered her. She moaned unabashedly, thrusting her hips back at him. She had always enjoyed it when he took her roughly, knowing he was still careful enough not to hurt her, and even though there was an ulterior motive to the night’s events, she wanted to enjoy herself as well. Flann obliged, gripping her hips and starting to pump into her._

_The friction felt amazing and soon, Gwynevere was dizzy with pleasure. Each thrust hollowed her out, filling her all the way to the hilt. She smiled when she felt him lean down to kiss her spine, nuzzling her as he moved ever faster. Without even realizing it, one of her hands snaked between her legs, rubbing her most sensitive spot. It took but a few flicks across the little nub for her to come apart and she didn’t hold back her cries as she did._

_Flann followed soon after, making certain to pull out before he climaxed. He pulled her close, collapsing onto the sheets with her in his arms. He turned her towards him and kissed her. She happily settled in his embrace, leaning her head against his chest. There, she remained for a moment, bracing herself for what would inevitably happen._

_Just then, the doors to her chambers opened. Two sets of footsteps entered, calling her name and asking her where she was. Flann responded accordingly, quickly sliding a sheet over their bodies as they waited. The steps came closer and soon, the curtain surrounding the bed was pulled back, revealing both Faraam and her father._

_There was a brief silence and Gwynevere could literally feel the atmosphere swift. As Gwyn’s face turned to shock and then to anger, she quickly exchanged a look with Faraam. She saw how he had to suppress just the smallest of smirks, before turning to her father. She was impressed by how well he feigned a stammer, even though on the inside, he was probably cheering._

_“I…obviously wished to see your daughter at a wrong time. My deepest apologies. I think I was presumptuous in assuming a union between us was feasible. Now, excuse me…”_

_With those words, he turned around and paced off. Both she and Flann saw how he threw them a last smile and wink, gone unnoticed by a mortified Gwyn. She quickly returned the gesture, glad for his cooperation. Faraam was a good man and a loyal friend of her family. The both of them were desperate to get out of this arranged marriage and she was glad to have done so without putting him on the block for preferring men over women. She knew how to negate her father’s actions well enough that she'd rather take the brunt of it herself._

_In order to drive the point home, she casually sat up while still covering herself and kissed Flann. She thanked him for visiting her tonight and asked him when they would see each other again. He promised her they would very soon, before slipping from the bed and quickly getting dressed. While her father watched him go with a deadly glare, she quickly did the same. She then watched her lover leave and quietly braced herself for what was to come._

_It didn’t take long, as suddenly, Gwyn burst into shouting. “How could you? How could you! Do you have any idea what you have just done?”_

_Part of Gwynevere was ready to paint on an innocent smile and use a little girl’s voice. That was how she had operated for all these centuries. Act like the most harmless of all the Gods, as the sweet and naïve Goddess of Fertility, only good for healing, beauty and motherly warmth. This time, however, she couldn’t. It sickened her to even think of doing so. She had worn that damned mask long enough. It was time that people saw her true face for once._

_“I ruined your opportunity to sell me off like a prized cow. I have done rather well, I think. You never saw it coming.”_

_This response only angered Gwyn more. “Do you know how hard I have worked for this? To find you a husband befitting of your station? Faraam is a fine consort, a worthy successor. And you have squandered it, by letting yourself be seduced by that wildling fire scribe! Now your virtue is ruined and soon, everyone will know!”_

_Gwynevere only just bit back a laugh. Even now, Gwyn assumed she was just some sweet, passive little girl. If only he knew that she had been the assertive one in their courtship, that she had to make an effort to have Flann even kiss her. She could only imagine how her father would respond if he knew she had lovers before him as well. Not that he needed to know any of these private matters about her, but it was about time he learned to see his daughter for who she really was._

_“Good. If that keeps you from setting up a political match for me. Choosing Faraam shows you are not very talented at it.”_

_Within seconds, Gwyn marched up to her. She felt how his hand clamped around her arm, applying a painful amount of pressure. She held back a startled cry of pain and when she looked at her father, she saw unbridled anger, his voice turning to a threatening snarl._

_“How dare you speak to me this way? You should know better than to show disrespect to the King of Gods! Have you forgotten what happened to your older brother?”_

_She glared, calmly pulled her arm loose and straightened her back, not even wincing as she coolly stared him in the face. “I have not forgotten, father. And neither should you. You know very well what can happen should your children turn against you.”_

_She could practically see her father turn red with rage. “Are you threatening me?”_

_A smile came onto her lips and she did not hide how insincere its innocence was. “No. I am merely informing you that you cannot attain all victories by the sword. Especially when it comes to your allies.”_

_Her father stared at her incredulously and she continued. “Have you never wondered, father, why Faraam was so faithful to Gwynnant? Why Lord Kremmel suddenly decided to aid you, despite previously being your most vocal opponent? Has it never occurred to you why your detractors sometimes “leave town”, even though the Lord’s Blades are gone, and all you find is a severed ear?”_

_She saw how Gwyn’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words that somehow never got past his lips. It was almost funny, had she not been so mad. Her father truly didn’t know. Not about his oldest son’s love for a man and his excellent leadership on the battlefield, her efforts to help him remain in power or even how Gwyndolyn maintained order in the shadows. He was a good king in his own right, but blind to seeing his own family for what they were. The longer she thought about it, the more furious she got._

_She had done so much for this man, as a loving daughter should. She had convinced Lord Kremmel to send his forces. She had solved conflicts between a jealous Nehma and Fina, so they would work together for the common good of the Gods. She had even convinced Nito to support Gwyn when the God of the Dead wanted to retreat from the fight. Besides, how many petty squabbles and looming coup d’états had she prevented while her father was slaying foes on the battlefield? She was fine hiding her true political power, but she could not bear that even now, her father simply saw her as a pretty little thing to have and trade off._

_“Truly, how much do you know of your own children, father? Except what you wanted to see? We have served you loyally our entire lives, each in our own way. Or do you truly think all of your allies follow you with unquestioning awe?”_

_Those words, though mysterious, were enough to give Gwyn pause and she could feel him grow even more angry. “What are you even insinuating?”_

_She smiled, realizing how much she probably sounded like her younger sibling. “All I suggest to you, father, as your loyal subject and child, is that it is not unwise to defer to me before you make any decisions regarding my life. Particularly if it involves marriage. You can try, of course. After all, you _are_ the Lord of Sunlight and my father. Yet not everyone who supports you does so without convincing and time will tell who is worse off by the end of it, you or I.”_

_By now, her father was fuming. Gwynevere, however, felt calmer than she had ever been in her entire life. The veil was lifted ever so slightly and he got an inkling of the truth. Whether it made him any wiser, however, remained to be seen._

_She snapped her fingers and soon, two sentinels appeared on her doorstep. She gave them a sweet smile. She then walked to the bed and feigned a yawn._

_“My father is tired. So am I. Escort him back to his chambers.”_

_The sentinels nodded and politely led her stunned father away. She watched them go, feeling strangely relieved. Of course, this would not be the end of it. No doubt, Gwyn would try to deny any injury suffered at her hands and offer forgiveness if only she promised to never see Flann again._

_That thought made her smile. She could promise that easily enough. After all, she had learned by now that promises rarely meant anything in this world. She loved Flann more than she feared her father’s displeasure and if Gwyn was as intelligent as she held him for, then he would realize soon enough his wrath was meaningless to her._

“Are you ready to go?”

Wrapped in a warm, comfortable cloak of Great Feline fur, Gwynevere turned to her lover, letting out a small scoff. “I have been ready for a long time, Flann. Are the others?”

He nodded. “They are waiting for us at the gates of the city. They require your presence to leave.”

She pulled the cloak tighter around herself. “Then let us not waste any more time.”

With those words, she and Flann grabbed their provisions and left his home. The moonless night greeted them and they quietly weaved their way through the mazelike streets of Anor Londo. Every now and then, they would glance over their shoulders, to make certain they were not followed.

Then, from the corner of her eyes, Gwynevere could detect shapes in the shadows. Instantly knowing what it meant, she whipped around to Flann and opened her mouth, but it was too late. Several sentinels and knights leaped in their direction, weapons drawn. Soon, they were surrounded, with no way out.

Flann instinctively pulled her closer. She could already see flames dancing at the tips of his fingers and she quietly shook her head at him, imploring him not to do anything foolish. He seemed to take her quiet warning to heart and as they waited in silence, another figure came from the shadows.

“I was told Gwynevere intended to leave the city with someone, but my spies never found out who. I should have known it was you… You have been a thorn in my side since the beginning, fire sage. Though I thought even you smarter than trying to abduct my only daughter.”

Gwynevere instantly recognized her father’s voice. One glance at Flann revealed that a kind of tranquil fury she seldom saw in her kind, gentle lover. She braced herself. This was going to get ugly. She could hear the red-haired God’s voice take on a sharp edge.

“I did not abduct Gwynevere, my Lord; she was the one to suggest us leaving. Has it occurred to you to ask for your daughter’s wishes in this matter? If she wishes to remain here, I will gladly give her up and leave by myself. If not, I will stand my ground and keep you from taking her.”

She saw how Gwyn swelled with anger, before turning to one of the sentinels. “As if I would trust her to be sensible around you. The past has proven that many times. You, take my daughter and escort her back to the palace. I will deal with the Flame God myself.”

The sentinel nodded and approached, leaving the Princess of Sunlight no choice but to speak. “I am not going back to the palace, father! Flann and I are leaving Anor Londo! Your betrayal of Havel was the final straw!”

This only seemed to enrage her father more. “Do not presume lecture me on the choice I had to make, Gwynevere! Now come home like a good girl!”

The sentinel reached out for her, for Flann to step between the both of them and glare at both him and Gwyn. “She said she did not wish to go with you. How about you respect the word of a princess?”

By now, she could hear flames crackle all around her lover. His rage was climbing to the same heights as her father’s. Confrontation was now inevitable.

Suddenly, her father stomped forward, sword drawn and a lightning spear in his other hand. “Step aside, all of you! I will show you what happens to a God who defies the Lord of Sunlight.”

The sentinels obeyed and Gwynevere barely contained a shriek as her father approached Flann, sword in hand. Just as he was about to strike, however, a column of fire rose up in front of him. The heat of it was enough for the sentinels to back away and flee and even Gwyn staggered back. The Princess of Sunlight saw how Flann’s very eyes were alight with flame, his voice lowered to a growl. 

“Do not provoke me, Lord Gwyn.”

Even Gwynevere felt a shiver run through her body at those words. Many thought Flann a meek god who eschewed weapons, one who rather hid and communed with flames than fight glorious battles. Nothing was less true. He was a calm, level-headed man who preferred to avoid violence, but she had seen him slay dragons, giants and everything in-between. That, combined with his natural affinity for fire, made him one of the most dangerous warriors she knew.

Gwyn, however, ignored the warning. With a bloodthirsty war cry, he charged towards her lover. Flann was quick to defend himself and soon, the nightly streets were alive with lightning and fire. Both men fought like dogs in a pit, each of them with the sole intention of bringing the other down.

She had seen her father fight many times and his reputation as one of the finest swordsmen in Lordran was deserved. Still, even he seemed to underestimate Flann’s strength and reflexes. The fire god was quick on his feet despite his size and summoned flames and bursts of fire with deadly precision. He soon drove the older man back, imploring him once more to give up and let them go.

The Lord of Sunlight, however, would have none of it. Getting more infuriated with every attempt the Flame God made to reason with him, he started to fling lightning in rapid succession. He swung at him with his longsword, cursing him and swearing he would end his life this night. 

Soon, the smell of blood and burned flesh was in the air. There were pants and screams, interjected with fire and iron. The air was thick with bloodlust and hatred. Neither would stop until the other man was dead.

Gwynevere could feel her heart sink. She didn’t want this. She wanted none of this. Even if she no longer agreed with her father’s rule, she did not want him to die any more than Flann. She didn’t want to see two men whom she loved the most tear each other apart.

That thought guided her actions. Within seconds, a miracle started to form in her hands. It was one she had learned long ago, simply by observing her father and studying him. Never before had she had to resort to a powerful weapon like this, being a goddess of healing rather than destruction, but now, she didn’t have a choice. Turning her eyes, she readied herself and flung the sunlight spear between the two men.

The impact of the weapon was immediate. The shock it caused was enough for both men to be flung backwards into the dirt. They hit the ground with agonized screams, the miracle searing their skin. They lay there gasping, dazed and unable to get up, the fight effectively over. The Princess of Sunlight could only watch, nailed to the ground in horror, unable to register that she had in fact managed this level of destruction.

Then, she jerked into movement. She rushed over to Flann and quickly started to cast a Bountiful Sunlight miracle. The countless bloody gashes on his body immediately started to close and she could hear him utter a sigh of relief. She flashed him a quick smile, focusing all her attention on healing him quickly and thoroughly.

“Gwynevere…”

Her father’s voice pulled her from her work. She looked at him and tried to withstand the urge to cry. He was in terrible shape, clearly having taken the brunt of his altercation with Flann. The sunlight spear had not helped matters and now, unable to stand, he was reduced to begging.

“Please, heal me. Heal me, my daughter.”

She hesitated. The little girl in her, the one that remembered a loving father, wanted nothing more than to rush over and comply. She didn’t want to see her father in pain. She wanted to leave him alive and well. She wanted to leave…

That thought brought her back to her senses. Her father would never let her leave Anor Londo. The moment he would recover, he would kill Flann and drag her back to the palace. He’d lock her away in her chambers and she would never be free. All those horrific thoughts rushed through her head and as they did, it was clear Gwyn was becoming impatient.

“Heal your king, Gwynevere!”

Those words, spoken with the rage of a ruler rather than the longing of a father, sealed his fate. Rather than helping him, she turned her head away from him and back to Flann, healing the last of his injuries. She then helped him up, supporting him as much as her smaller frame allowed, and they started to walk away from Gwyn and towards the gates.

The Lord of Sunlight understood what this meant. As it got through to him that his daughter was truly abandoning him, the desperation on his face soon turned to shock and then to fury. Crawling after them, dragging himself by his fingernails, he shouted at her, beside himself with anger.

“Gwynevere! How dare you! How dare you choose that dissenter over your own flesh and blood! Stay here! I command you! As your father and king!”

The Princess of Sunlight no longer responded. Once upon a time, those words would have grieved her, but now, she found they did nothing. They were the words of a man who refused to accept his tenure was at an end, a man whose wisdom was corroded by the First Flame. She had endured that man long enough. 

She turned to him one last time, her voice emotional but calm as she whispered a last farewell. “Goodbye, father...”

Gwyn shouted something at her, but she didn’t bother to listen. She had cast the dice and chose betrayal. She had chosen Flann over her remaining relatives. That would be her cross to bear and her only regret was that her brother would not come with her and she had lost the man her father once was. 

As her lover had said, the other Gods were waiting for them at the gates. They were relieved to see her, bowing their heads in respect. Their eyes betrayed an eagerness to follow, to go wherever she led, and then and there, she decided to do so to the best of her abilities.

The Age of Gods was coming to an end. That much Gwynevere knew. Yet she wasn’t like her father. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice everything to delay the inevitable. It was time for the Gods to leave and make room for mankind. To find their own place in the world, across the sea, in unknown lands where perhaps, their kind could find peace without the First Flame.


	4. The Mother Goddess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwynevere chose a different life.

_“Why hast thou requested to visit me here, Lady Gwynevere?”_

_The Princess of Sunlight could hear the obvious distrust in Bishop Havel’s voice. She could hardly blame the man. Especially not if the whispers heard around Anor Londo were true._

_The relationship between Havel and Gwyn had cooled dramatically over the last few years, particularly after the raid on the Archives. She herself could attest to that. Where Havel had previously been very cordial with the royal family, he now seemed to keep his distance. He made it a habit to snub her father in public and no longer attended any gatherings to discuss the state of the realm._

_Of course, this had not gone unnoticed by the godly denizens of Anor Londo. Tongues started to wag and the rift between Havel and her father become public knowledge. Some even spoke of a rebellion in the works and that the Bishop had a hand in this._

_Gwynevere was quick to believe it. Havel had never been a man who let his morals be clouded by loyalty. If he felt Gwyn’s actions would put Anor Londo at risk, he would act. Seeing how he was one of the most capable warriors she knew, a civil war would not be out of the question._

_That was why she had arranged to meet him tonight. As far as she knew, there was no ill will between the two of them and he was likelier to listen to her. Perhaps the visit was useless, but there was no point in plunging into a war when negotiating was still an option._

_So, she had slipped a note to her father’s former general and invited herself into his home. So far, Havel seemed more surprised than angry about it. They were sitting at his table, sipping some wine, and his armor or dragon tooth was nowhere in sight. That was a god start, but she knew she had to tread carefully._

_“First of all, Lord Havel, I merely wish to know if thou art well. And, if familiarity permits, we can forgo formality and speak as equals and friends.”_

_Her words had him soften a bit and he smiled. “That we may. I am rather well, Gwynevere. It is very kind of you to ask.”_

_She took another sip of wine, deciding it was a good time to probe. “I felt I had to ask. I have seen very little of you lately. And there have been rumors around Anor Londo about your absence.”_

_The man immediately shrugged. “I attach little value to rumors. They are for fish wives and bored nobles.”_

_“Neither do I, but rumors usually start somewhere. You have become more…reclusive these last few years. And I have such a feeling your raid on the Archives still weighs heavily upon you.”_

_The look on his face told her all she needed to know. “I want you to know that I do not agree with my father’s decisions either. He was a wise man once, but he seems more concerned with maintaining power than a just rule these days. He is making enemies everywhere he turns, even among those who once called him a friend.”_

_As the words came tumbling out her mouth, she closely watched Havel. The man was a warrior, not a politician, and she saw how his face spoke volumes. Then and there, she knew the rumors were true._

_She took a deep breath. “My father is not a horrible man. I think we both know that. Prideful, maybe, but not a monster. It was wrong of him to link the First Flame to humanity and to trust Seath, but he made his choices based on what he thought was best for him and his people…”_

_She sighed and looked outside, at the fading sky. “Even now, I think Gwyn still does what he thinks is best. But the world is changing and he is unable to stop it. It drives him to do ever more desperate things and those around him suffer. He needs to be saved, especially from himself.”_

_Havel stared at her, only for a sad smile to overtake him. “Truth is always found in unlikely places, is it not? You are right, Gwynevere. I do not seek to overthrow your father. I seek to save his soul and make right his wrongs.”_

_Gwynevere could feel the atmosphere in the room change. She couldn’t say she wasn’t relieved at that. There were still feelings of friendship towards Gwyn. That meant negotiation was still perfectly possible._

_“And how would you wish to go about that?”_

_Havel drank some more wine, pleased to have someone listen for once. “Your brother Gwynnant… He had seen this situation coming long before we did. Unfortunately, we all chose to laugh at him back then. I think we should find him and bring him back to Anor Londo. I already sent out some of my men to look for him.”_

_She furrowed her brow. “You wish to crown him king instead of my father?”_

_A laugh was her answer. “Oh no. Gwynnant is a good man and an ever better warrior, but no ruler. Yet if he saw what our use of the Flame would yield, perhaps he also saw what could undo it. We are clutching at straws, but it is all we have.”_

_“Yet that would still leave my father in power.”_

_“Not necessarily. I have kept proof of my raid of the Archives and there were witnesses, you included. If this knowledge were to become public, then there is ample reason to doubt Gwyn’s competence as a king. Seath would be executed and your father would simply lose his position. Then, we could hold a moot and select a new ruler.”_

_Gwynevere quietly listened to his explanation. She had to admit his plan was not a bad one. Her father was better off not being at the helm anymore. Still, it was not without room for modification and it was a good thing to plan beyond an absconded throne._

_“Everyone wants to have a leader, but few have the capacity for it. Who would you suggest to take the throne after Gwyn?”_

_That was where Havel’s smile broadened. “Well, someone of Gwyn’s line would keep the masses happy. He just so happened to have begotten some fine offspring indeed. Gwynnant would be a wonderful general and your sister Gwyndolyn would be an excellent spymaster. You, however, would make a wonderful queen.”_

_For once in her political schemes, the Princess of Sunlight felt her mask crack. She was quick to recover, quickly reaching for some more wine. The Bishop, however, had already noticed._

_“Do not be so surprised at that statement, Gwynevere. I know who it is that keeps the court in line and vetoes any of Gwyn’s policies. You have done well reigning in madness caused by despair. I can only imagine your strength actually ruling our nation.”_

_Even now, Gwynevere felt herself at a loss for words. Her, queen of Anor Londo? The notion seemed absurd. She did not underestimate her own capabilities in the slightest, but she had always been happy being the power behind the throne. The idea of taking on her father’s crown was far beyond any ambition she had._

_Still, she once again realized she had done the right thing to visit Havel. She knew what his plans were now and, as a result, could figure out a compromise. Perhaps, her father could be made to see reason now. If she played her cards right and pulled the right strings, Gwyn would cease his madness, try Seath and mend his friendship with Havel. They could then return her brother home, perhaps even make amends with Velka and get Priscilla back… And maybe, just maybe, find a way to stop the Flame from fading._

_Yet that pleasant thought faded as soon as it occurred. Suddenly, there was shouting. The steel of weapons rapped against the door as the wood started to crack under the pounding of hands and heavy boots. Soon, it was broken down and large, dark shadows filled the room._

_“Bishop Havel, you are under arrest for conspiring to commit treason against the crown!”_

_Gwynevere’s face turned pale as she saw Faraam burst into the room. He was flanked by some of Gwyn’s finest men and instantly, she knew what that meant. She was absolutely certain that she wasn’t followed, so Gwyn must have planted his spies around here, lying in wait for a confession._

_She glanced at Havel. His expression was even, but his entire demeanor suggested he did not suspect her. Instead, he calmly stood up, glaring at Faraam and his men._

_“So, this is how far my Lord has fallen?”_

_Faraam calmly ignored his snide remark. “Take the princess and escort her back home! Do not resist, Bishop! You will only make it worse!”_

_Two of the knights were already at Gwynevere’s side, ready to pull her away. On instinct, she started fighting against their iron grip. She turned towards Faraam, his voice venomous and commanding._

_“As your princess, I order you to stand down! Havel is innocent and we both know it!”_

_For a moment, she could see sorrow in Faraam’s eyes, before his features hardened again. “I am sorry, Lady Gwynevere, but this order comes directly from your father. I cannot disobey him.”_

_All she could do was stare at him incredulously as he turned back to his men and repeated his order to escort her out. The two knights started to pull her away and she resisted as much as she could. She kept her eyes on Faraam, calling him out on his misplaced loyalty with tranquil fury and wishing upon him that it would haunt him at night and weigh on him for all time. It was futile, of course, but she was too infuriated to care._

_Still, her distraction had some effect. Havel had made use of the occasion and ran. He escaped out the window, landing on his feet outside and taking off. As she was dragged off to the palace, the last thing the Princess of Sunlight saw was her father’s men giving chase and she could only hope that her old family friend would escape the city._

_She kept up that hope for a long time. Several weeks, in fact. After all, this was Havel, her father’s greatest general. If anyone culd escape the wrath of the Gods, it was him._

_Unfortunately, that hope was in vain. It was only then that the news reached her that Havel had been found and imprisoned deep within the Darkroot Forest, its location known to nothing but its inanimate crystal jailors, provided by Seath. All his followers had been exterminated and the “threat” to the realm had ended._

_Gwyn had even dared to praise her for her unwitting involvement in all of it. He came to her one night, stating he was grateful for her help in exposing his old friend. All he needed was proof to substantiate his suspicions and her visit had coaxed the confession he needed. He told her she was a good daughter and that he was proud of the way she had saved his reign._

_Gwynevere had quietly accepted his praise, but inwardly, she was seething. That night was the first time she truly despised her father. Was this what he had become? A man so obsessed with keeping the First Flame alight that he was willing to turn on friends and band together with enemies? If people like Havel were no longer safe, then how soon would it be before his other allies would be on the block?_

_That question was the last one she ever had to ask herself on that matter. She would not let it come that far. Then and there, she had made her decision._

_She would do what Havel aimed to achieve. She would betray her father. Except, unlike the Bishop, she would succeed._

Even now, Gwynevere still thinks of the family friend she failed. How could she not, when he was the one that made her flee Anor Londo? Havel once told Gwynevere she would be a fine queen and wherever he is, she wonders if he would still feel that way.

She is a queen now. A ruling queen in her own right. A position she never wanted, but is now hers and every day, she fulfills it with the greatest dignity and pride.

For the longest time, she didn’t have a kingdom and for a while, it was likely she would not have any subjects either. Once the Gods left Anor Londo, the bickering started. Fights over food, clothes, lack of luxury and especially, who would assume leadership. Even when the world was ending, petty quarrels were still fought and soon, most were simply looking for a scapegoat to blame their relative misfortunes on.

She had been the logical choice, of course. After all, as the daughter of Gwyn who first came up with the plan to leave, she had to pay for her father’s sins and any discomforts they may have caused. Besides, why should she be given respect? What use did a Goddess of Fertility have in such a broken world?

All their hateful words wounded her deeply, but it had never broken Gwynevere’s spirit. She had remained dignified in the face of all the slander. She told her fellow Gods they were free to return to Anor Londo or go anywhere they pleased. She and Flann would keep traveling, looking for a place where they could be free of Gwyn’s influence, and at no point were they obliged to follow her.

With those words, she and Flann had set off on their own, leaving the others to their own devices. Her bluff worked. Within days, the Gods had caught up to them again and as a group, they traveled. They lived as nomads for centuries, feeling the Flame faded and be rekindled many times, but for all their hardships and sorrows during that time, their group grew closer than they had ever been in Anor Londo.

Gwynevere will never forget the day they found their new home. They had managed to cross the sea, using a repaired ship they had managed to obtain from No-Man’s Wharf in Drangleic. The journey was frightening and perilous, wrought with storms and sea monsters, and she had never been so glad to see the shore. Nor had she been more astounded to look upon the land they had entered.

What they found was an ancient, destroyed civilization, once inhabited by creatures the same size as them. Giants, different from the kind she knew, who had apparently been civilized and advanced but had all been wiped out during some vicious battle. She couldn’t help but be enthralled by the sight of this razed city and it was there that she made up her mind. This was the new home of the Gods.

Even now, she never once regretted that decision. It is here, in Elder Londo, that the Gods are safe. Their reclusive city is now one of wealth and resources, inhabited by many kinds of refugees now, and while the Gods no longer enjoy the splendor and worship of the days of old, theirs is a peaceful community even when the Flame fades once more. She was elected queen of this place soon after the foundation was laid and she strived to keep this city as tranquil as she can. 

A refuge it became indeed. Eventually, even the very last of Anor Londo's Gods found their way to this place. Velka, Fina and even Faraam came to the city, all with their own baggage and woes. Faraam especially was in a bad state, the betrayal of Havel having taken a heavy toll on him. He said he was ready to accept any punishment she wished to deal him for his crime, but instead, she decided to forgive him and leave him to his life to heal. She was not like her father and in this city, mercy would always be held above revenge.

Of course, this peace was not good enough for everyone. Over time, two of her daughters, her beautiful children with her consort Flann, wanted to see life beyond its borders, to pursue adventures across the sea, in the land of their grandfather. She had loathed to see them go, but had let them nonetheless. There was only so much a mother could do to discourage them and she knew there were some things her children could only learn on their own.

Every night, she had prayed for their safety and happiness, but it seemed no such things were meant for them. The children who left stayed gone, sometimes endlessly, and when the returned, they were no longer themselves. The world across the sea was a cruel one, especially for those descended from the Gods.

One of her daughters, Camellia, had gone off to the land of Lothric. She came home a mere shadow of herself, carrying an infant crossbreed in her free arm. She tearfully told her parents that this child, Ocelotte, was hers and that she had fled when her husband, Oceiros, had gone mad by unearthing the knowledge of Seath. His madness had cost her her older sons, Lorian and Lothric, as well as her daughter Gertrude and after years of sacrificing so much to try and kindle the Flame, she could never return.

The other, Rosaria, was in an even worse state. She had come back with her tongue cut out, a shadow of her former self. Through writing, she explained that she had gone to Anor Londo to visit her uncle Gwyndolyn, but the city was overrun by a traitor named Pointiff Sulyvahn. Her husband had been killed and her daughter had been captured, turned into an assassin and later sent to kill her. She had cut out her tongue and left her to die, after which she had gone into hiding for many years before being able to return.

Just hearing these tales about the fates of her children had reduced Gwynevere and Flann to tears. There was grief, anger, even a desire for revenge. Still, having grown wiser with age, they had decided not to give into those feelings. Nor had they chastised their children or reminded them that they were against them leaving. Such admonitions were useless and all they could do as parents was to simply love their children and help them recover from their ordeals.

Indeed, it seems that time in the city has done her children, and grandchildren, good. The smiles are slowly returning to their faces and they have found their place among their siblings and family. They slowly seem to heal in the peaceful city, finding joys in the small things in life once more, and she can only hope that, in time, the horrors they experienced in the light of the fading Flame will fade.

Perhaps, she realizes, those tragedies do not have to be repeated. Stories have reached her from across the sea. A singular Unkindled Hollow that defeated the Lords of Cinder and has usurped the fire, ending the cycle. The rumors say he has been crowned king of what used to be New Londo and has turned the city into a prosperous, wealthy and peaceful kingdom.

Gwynevere hopes the tales are true. There is nothing she would not give to cease the horrors the First Flame has wrought on this world. Humanity should have never carried the burden her father unwittingly imposed on them. If this man has indeed ended the cycle and started a new age, then she cannot think of doing anything but wish him a long and prosperous rule.

She smiles, looking over the beautiful gardens of her home in Elder Londo. Flann is off hunting supper and her daughters are sitting together underneath the enormous spirit trees, watching their own children play. It is a pleasant life she leads here and she finds she never once misses the luster she left behind in Anor Londo.

Part of her hopes that the Unkindled one, this Ashen King, might find this land. That he might come visit her, provided he does not bear a grudge to the daughter of one who linked the Flame to humanity. She would happily receive him in her home, council him with her centuries of acquired experience as a ruler, and tell him just how she relieved she is that he ended the curse. Perhaps, they could finally make peace, mankind and the Gods, and establish a world where they live as equals, no longer bound by primordial fire.

Such are wonderful thoughts and Gwynevere can only hope they one day come to fruition. Until then, she will live out her life here, in the home she carved out with her own blood, sweat and tears. She will rule to the best of her ability, watching over her husband, children, Gods and all the other lost souls that wandered into Elder Londo. Once a daughter and lover, she is now a Queen, mother, wife and Goddess and she will always carry those hard-earned titles with pride, here in this city at the ends of a now changed world.


End file.
